


Gettin' used to the rhythm, yeah, I know this beat too well

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Dialogue, Gen, Hurt, Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), I changed some of it around so the scene was more serious, Major Character Injury, Wings, basically quackity has wings and schlatt breaks one of them and so yeah, comfort will come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: (title from Monsters by All Time Low)Canon divergence where Schlatt hitting Quackity with a pickaxe during the scene where he takes down the White House is a bit more serious than it was in canon. Comfort will come later.I like angst, but what do I like better? Respecting the boundaries of content creators. If I get wind of any CC being uncomfortable with this kind of fic I will remove it from the interwebs and also existence as we know it.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

Quackity watched with irritated exasperation as Schlatt continued on with his destruction. The walls of the White House splintered and crumbled under the shabby stone pickaxe, far too quick for Quackity’s liking. The President was talking, throwing insults and useless comments his way as he stood there, his wings ruffled with anger and his fists clenched around his own pickaxe.

This was his! He’d made this- Schlatt had no right to be doing any of this. Everything the White House stood for and what it meant to him, Schlatt couldn’t give less of a shit about. 

Stepping in front of the goat man, Quackity spread his wings- it had been a long time since he’d dyed them yellow, now they were their original brown and white color. Schlatt seemed taken aback for a moment, though his surprised expression soon turned to rage. He opened his mouth, words spilling out like venom, but Quackity could barely hear them.  
“Dude! I”m the fucking Vice President!” He said, forced to raise his voice higher than Schlatt’s. “We share these decisions! We share these fucking decisions-”

He barely had time to stop mid-sentence before Schlatt’s pickaxe suddenly came down on Quackity’s left wing- aimed right at the humerus. A horrible, sickening crunch was followed by the worst pain the winged hybrid had ever experienced. His knees gave out from under him almost immediately and embarrassingly enough, he shrieked. 

He could barely see over his watering eye, but as he cradled the wounded limb to the best of his ability, he saw blood gushing from where the pickaxe had pieced through his flesh, staining his recently preened feathers. He didn’t have time to evaluate the rest of the damage before he caught Schlatt going for another swing.

Quackity threw himself out of the way, scrambling across the floor- his right wing flapping wildly for purchase as he tried to get to his feet. 

“Stop!” He managed to choke out as Schlatt relentlessly chased after him, pickaxe in hand. “Stop! Stop stop.” His back hit a door behind him, sending more searing pain across his body as the wood came into contact with his limp wing- right at the spot where the bone had broken. 

Schlatt stood above him, his hooves tightly holding his weapon and his eyes glinting with malice and rage. He stomped the ground in front of Quackity and leaned forward, teeth gritted. 

“Get. Fucking. Mining.” The President barked, throwing the pickaxe down at the avian hybrid. 

Quackity took it in shaking hands, trying to will away the tears that were already running down his face from the pain- fuck he probably looked so fucking pathetic but it hurt, jesus christ did it hurt. 

Schlatt turned away from him, still yelling, lashing insult after insult as he grabbed another pickaxe, bringing it down against the walls of the White House once more. 

Quackity didn’t move for a long moment, trying to calm his breathing. Finally, he turned, trying to see the damage done to his wing. Broken. He’d known this as soon as the pickaxe hit it, yet… he had hoped. The whole limb was limp and covered in a lot more blood than Quackity had originally thought. He couldn’t even fold it against his back and as he pulled himself to his feet, it dragged on the floor behind him. 

He was only ever allowed to glide on the SMP- Dream had a strict rule of no flying, and Quackity had to make sure to keep his flight feathers clipped. They grew back, of course, so o matter what, Quackity knew that he could at least rely on them to save himself from a deadly fall- or if Dream ever allowed it, he could start flying again. 

But now? Quackity knew that there was a chance he would never fly again.

“I’m in charge!” Schlatt was still yelling to himself, tearing down every piece of stone that still stood around him. “I’m in charge!” 

Quackity folded his right wing tightly against his back, the pain and frustration giving him the willpower to step forward. 

“You’re President, but I’m fucking Vice President. We make these decisions together, you know that, right?” He spoke over Schlatt’s angry rambling, trying to put as much power into his voice as he could despite his entire body shaking from the pain and blood loss. “And you know what? Why don’t you just fucking do it yourself, since you’re master fucking big man.”

He threw the tool Schlatt had handed to him, then leaned down to pick up the netherite pickaxe he’d dropped and threw it in the goat hybrid’s direction, watching as it landed at his hooves.

Schlatt growled. “I’m not gonna take orders from you, or any of these fucking low-T-” 

“You are literally in power because of my votes!” Quackity yelled over him. His right wing fluttered for a moment, but he forced it to stay still against his back. “You would have no fucking power if it weren’t for me. You used my votes to come to power.”

Schlatt turned away from him. Judging by the expression on his face, Quackity knew he wasn’t listening anymore. He’d turned his back on the avian, focused on tearing down more chunks of walls. Quackity stepped back, watching him helplessly.

“You know what? You know what would really hurt you, you little puss?” Schlatt turned around again suddenly, grinning. For a second, Quackity felt faint. Was Schlatt going to come for his other wing? He took another step back just as Schlatt went up the half-broken stairs- something about breaking a bed upstairs. His relief flooded away any anger he felt at the action.

Fuck you, I put that there for you He wanted to scream. 

He couldn’t do this anymore. He watched wordlessly as Schlatt tore down what was, to Quackity, a symbol of democracy- something he had built for his country, for his President. 

He fucking used me.

His bow was in his hands before he even registered the movement. His shoulders and broken wing screamed with pain as he took aim. Schlatt didn’t even turn to look at him. He set the arrow loose. 

-

Even with the sun still high up in the sky, the woods were quiet. Quackity let himself fall against a tree. His entire body felt like it was tearing itself apart, all of his limbs shaking. The bleeding from his wing had stopped, although he’d still lost a lot of blood.

He’d shot Schlatt. He’d killed him, taken one of his three lives. Could he go back to Manberg after that? Even if he could… was it worth it? His consciousness was trying to leave him, but he fought back. He had to stay awake- he had to find something to heal his wound. 

Movement flashed in the corner of his eyes, followed by the whiney of a horse and he whipped around, sword in hand. He was on his feet in record time as he saw the familiar face of Tommy amongst the trees, regarding Quackity with both surprise and… was that pity?

“Tommy?” Quackity lowered himself against the ground, dropping his sword by his side. 

“Hey…” Tommy looked at him suspiciously, then looked back towards the direction of Manberg, then back to Quackity. “Why are you in the woods, Big Q?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter in which Quackity arrives at Pogtopia and the consequences of blood loss catch up to him.

Pogtopia was… not exactly what he'd been expecting. Then again, Quackity hadn't really expected anything from two outcasts living in the woods.

The stairs leading down to the ravine had been hell. His broken wing dragged behind him and it was a miracle he hadn't screamed out in pain every time they had followed him down the steps. There were no more strong emotions keeping him from experiencing the pain, or how he could almost  _ feel  _ the shattered bone rattling around inside his flesh. It made him want to throw up. He couldn’t just grab it either- trying to lift the wing from the ground had made him see white for a few seconds as agony laced itself through his bones and he'd needed to take an extra minute to regain his breath.

Tommy had gone off ahead- probably to warn Wilbur. So the avian hybrid was left to painstakingly make his way across the narrow bridges and sets of stairs. 

He collapsed almost as soon as he reached the bottom of the ravine, crashing against the nearest wall and struggling to keep himself on his feet. His good wing shot out, trying to keep him balanced, but he forced it to tuck itself against his back again.

Sure, Tommy said he was willing to let him join- willing to help him… but Quackity had to get Wilbur's approval. He didn’t know how the former President would react to him being here, and one broken wing was quite enough for today, thank you.

Not that Quackity would get much say in the matter anyway. The world around him was spinning. He was tired, all of a sudden. Maybe he could take a short nap…

He jolted as loud footsteps came into earshot. The hybrid dug his nails into the stone wall, trying to push himself up- but he just ended up sinking further along the wall until he was almost fully laying down on the ground.

"Holy  _ shit _ Quackity." Wilbur was by his side in a single, dizzying second, his hands hovering above the hybrid's broken wing. The former President looked like absolute shit- his usually soft looking hair was greasy and unkempt, his eyes were dark and tired. Even his skin had a slightly grey-ish tone to it from the lack of sun.

Despite this, there was genuine worry on Wilbur's face.Quackity hadn't seen an expression like that on someone else's face in a long time. Wilbur was inspecting the wound closely, though staying a respectable distance.

Quackity tried to focus on him, but he felt as though his brain was mush. Everything was going on so fast around him- and he was hurt. He was losing blood and his wing was broken. He was surprised he hadn't passed out yet.

"What did he do this with?" 

The avian shot him a questioning look. How did he-?

"Tommy told me." Wilbur explained, catching the nonverbal question. "Well- told me enough for me to put the pieces together."

"Oh…" He steadied himself with a deep breath. "It was a pickaxe… a stone pickaxe."

Quackity was never going to fly again because of a  _ stone pickaxe _ . The more he thought about it, the more frustration he felt. He should have seen it coming, he should have known better. You don't talk back to Schlatt- maybe he deserved this. Why had he been so angry about the White House anyway? Maybe… maybe he'd been unreasonable? 

That didn't sound right though. The White House had meant a lot to him. Quackity was right to be angry. He was right to be angry about his position as vice president being undermined on a daily basis. Schlatt was only in power because of  _ him.  _ God he was tired. He wanted to sleep.

"You're losing lot of blood, Quackity, we need to get this patched up  _ now _ ." 

Deep in thought as he tried to rationalize his emotions, Quackity didn't even notice Wilbur's hands making their way to his wing. His entire body flinched away as the taller man's fingers brushed the feathers, although the sudden jostle hurt so badly he screamed again. 

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Wilbur teaches out again, but this time his hands came to rest on the hybrid's shoulders, steadying him. "Calm down Big Q. I just need to take a closer too, alright? I promise I'll be careful."

Quackity opened his mouth to reply, only to find he couldn’t. His tongue felt like it was made of lead. He shook his head, though the movement was sluggish too. What was happening to him? He was just so fucking  _ tired _ .

"Don't." 

That was the last thing Quackity managed to do before his body shut down without his consent. He fell forward, expecting to hit his face against the stone floor- only to be surprised to find himself leaning against a brown coat that smelled like smoke. He felt his good wing dropping by his side as Wilbur yelled panicked things towards a blurry shape in the distance, but whatever he was saying sounded like gibberish. 

His eyes finally closed and he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short, somewhat shitty chapter. I just wanted to write smth. Also sorry for the inaccuracies of what happens when losing an alarming amount of blood, I've never done it before and I was too lazy to look it up.  
> I promise the comfort will come soon.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 5 am! yay!


End file.
